Visions
by Lady Nerva
Summary: Some unexplainable visions cause changes in Professor McGonagall's life.
1. Envisioned

Visions

Part one: Envisioned

As Minerva McGonagall entered the Great Hall that evening she had to grip the door frame for support. There it was again. The vision. The vision that made her stomach to turn into a tight knot of sexual tension. It lasted only for a moment – the feeling striking her like a thunderbolt, quick and strong, crashing against her defenses and leaving her entirely overwhelmed.

And this whole situation was because of the mere sight of him. A man who had been her superior and friend for a long time.

She could not understand what had been happening to her for months. Having never experienced anything like this before she was now totally confused. She had managed, or at least she thought that she had managed, to bury these needs and desires deeply inside her after loosing her husband during the first years of the war against Voldemort. But even then the needs had never been so strong and urgent. She had never felt something like this in the presence of her husband, and definitely never experienced visions.

The whole thing made her shudder. This had started being ridiculous. She had started being ridiculous!

She composed herself and proceeded towards her chair, she sat down and in that instant was greeted - by him,

"Good evening, Minerva."

"Good evening, Headmaster." She nodded and turned to the large bowl at the center of the table. She did not really feel like eating soup but it smelt rather delicious. Before she could indulge herself in the steaming hot liquid, she could not help but notice the Headmaster's cramped position. She put the ladle back into the bowl and turned slightly into his direction,

"Albus, are you all right? Is there something wrong?" She asked, with concern. His whole facial expression changed as he shook his head.

"There is nothing wrong, just…" He looked into her eyes – and for a moment there it was again, the vision. She closed her eyes, praying silently to control this as soon as possible. But her wish was denied.

She saw him, again. He was leaning over her – love in his eyes. And she was grasping desperately at his hair as her body responded to the sensation of his touch. And then he was kissing her neck and the sensation grew. It was almost impossible to bear.

Her eyes shot open. She could see the troubled look on his face. But she could not deal with him now. She needed to cope with her own problems at the moment.

"Minerva?"

"I…" She stood up abruptly, loosing her balance for a moment. She searched frantically for support, the vision had never made her sway before and she was a little frightened now. She felt a strong hand gripping hers, but then the vision came back with much greater force. She pushed his aiding hand aside, wound her arms around her stomach and dashed out of the Great Hall.

She did not notice the concerned look of her colleagues. Or the Headmaster's stunned expression.

She rushed back to her chambers, locked her door with a strong charm and went into her bedroom. She did not bother to change her attire properly, with a wave of her hand her outer robe disappeared into her wardrobe. She kicked off her boots, they landed under her bed, but she was not interested what happened to them.

When she turned around to climb into bed, she saw herself in the mirror of her dressing table. She shot a disgusted look at her appearance. Her black robes, which she had become accustomed to wearing since her husband's death, gave her the appearance of the spinster she should have felt like. But her flushing cheeks and shining eyes betrayed her emotions, she was a young woman again. With another wave of her hand her room darkened. She lay down on the center of her four-poster bed and pulled the red and gold sheets over her shivering body.

Her breath was labored and she just could not calm down. What had happened a few minutes ago was too much to deal with. She was afraid to close her eyes, but still she did so. She was tired of this insanity.

When she next opened her eyes a concerned Mediwitch was hovering over her.

"How did you…"

"The Headmaster is very worried about you, Professor McGonagall. And so am I. After your abrupt departure we decided to check on you. And seeing your present state it was a good thing we did." The Mediwitch was shaking her head as she waved her wand above McGonagall.

"I can assure you, Madame Pomfrey, I am perfectly well." She tried to sit up, but was pushed firmly back between her cushions.

"Somehow I doubt that. So, will you tell me what symptoms you are experiencing?" When her 'patient' seemed unwilling to respond she pointed emphatically to the closed bedroom door. "Outside this room is an extremely worried Headmaster, who I must satisfy with my report regarding your health. So tell me what's going on!" Madame Pomfrey took a seat next to her on the bed and looked at her expectantly.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, the Mediwitch was seldom as forceful as she was now. Though she could be firm with the students or with other colleagues, she never spoke to the Headmaster or his deputy in such a way. Something must have happened to change her attitude.

She closed her eyes again and sighed deeply. The Mediwitch clearly sensed her hesitation, because she spoke again – her tone was now kinder and rather soothing.

"Professor, please. I would like to help. I have noticed for a while that something is troubling you. And that it has affected your physical state. You have lost weight." Here McGonagall opened her eyes, lifted her head slightly and looked at her. She did not believe anyone could tell that – her robes were quite concealing. "And you are feverish." she added.

McGonagall waited another minute to say something.

"It's a rather personal problem of mine, Madame Pomfrey." She said once she was sure there weren't going to be any other symptoms that the Mediwitch had observed.

"You can trust me, Professor."

"I fear I am going mad," somehow she wasn't expecting the Mediwitch to begin to laugh.

"Oh, I don't think that would be possible, Professor. I have never met a person saner than you. But tell me what makes you think that."

McGonagall felt as her face became warmer.

"I have been experiencing some inappropriate visions…"

"Oh…" Said Madame Pomfrey, and she moved closer to her. "What kind of visions? I mean when do they occur, are they of the same thing or not and so on?" McGonagall swallowed.

"I would rather not tell you. It's a personal matter."

"Professor, as I mentioned you can trust me."

"Yes, I know but…" She sighed, "I am someone who prefers to keep my private life private." Madame Pomfrey nodded. "You probably don't know that I was married. My relationship with my husband was an affectionate one, but I struggled with the intimacy of our relationship. Though I missed him very much when he was killed."

"I am sorry, Professor." McGonagall just nodded.

"Since his death I haven't thought of passion, or of my emotional and physical needs. Until now." She stopped for a moment. "I have started to see myself making love and even worse feeling it. I don't know why this is happening; it's ridiculous. But every fibre of me has started to live again and I cannot deny I enjoy the feelings creeping through my body. But I can't allow it to continue…"

"Just out of curiosity, who do you see in your visions, Professor?"

"The mere sight of him causes the whole thing to start. His touch exacerbates the intensity of what I see and feel. Until today I was able to tolerate the effects, but something changed and it appears I am not able to control my body any longer. I just don't understand why this has started to happen, we have been friends for a long time, since I started teaching here."

McGonagall heard the sharp intake of the Mediwitch.

"Professor, are you talking about the Headmaster?"

"Yes." After admitting this tears started to form and slowly to fall from her eyes.

"There, there." Madame Pomfrey shifted closer and wiped away the tears with a handkerchief. "There is nothing to be embarrassed about. You know this could be a good thing."

"How can it possibly be a good thing?"

"Love sometimes makes its presence known in very strange ways."

"What do you mean? I don't love him."

"I believe you do, and that your buried emotions have started to influence you." The Mediwitch smiled and continued gently, "there is a cure you know."

"What is it?" McGonagall felt relieved to hear there would be a way to end her discomfort.

"You must talk to him about this."

"But…"

"No buts, Professor." Madame Pomfrey stood up. "I believe our esteemed Headmaster will be very interested to hear about your visions." There was a curious glint in her eyes, which McGonagall did not understand. "I will send him inside, and please, tell him everything."

"Thank you." She whispered.

With this she left the bedroom. For a couple of long minutes McGonagall lay alone with her thoughts. She was not sure how to even approach telling Dumbledore about the visions. She was worried about how he would react.

It had taken them a long time to form a relationship that someone observing would probably call friendship. But they would be mistaken. In many ways they were more than friends, but in other ways they were much less.

When they first started working together, she had been reserved, purposely avoided the chance to get to know him better, mainly because she never wanted to give her husband a cause to be jealous. And Dumbledore had always respected her need for space.

But that had changed some years ago. She could sense he had been determined to know her better. After her husband's death he found ways to spend time with her in the evenings – too. It was his way of trying to persuade her to relax, prevent her from sinking into despair. She had probably never told him how much she appreciated his efforts.

Over time they talked less about the war and more about everyday life. But never about personal matters. She had learnt a lot about him, perhaps more than anybody. She could describe how he saw the world, but she would not have been able to explain how he felt about it. Simply because she had seldom seen any emotion displayed on his face.

It was a cold November night when she had first seen the vision. They were having a heated debate about the Christmas break, when he suddenly sat back into his chair and closed his eyes. She was still standing leaning over his desk and she could remember being confused at his defeated look. She could even recall the sound of his voice.

"I am not able to fight you, Minerva. You can have your own way."

Then he looked up and his eyes were full of emotions she had never seen before. It was at that moment she had experienced the vision for the first time. It surprised her, but passed so quickly she was almost able to believe she had imagined it.

Since then she had tried to find an explanation for what was happening to her. For a long time she had denied the obvious, though she had always known she was drawn to him, attracted to him. Deep down she knew it was desire, perhaps even love, but she did not want him to feel obligated to do something about her feelings.

She was woken from her musings by a soft knock. She called out for him to enter.

The door opened slowly, the headmaster came inside then shut the door quietly. He sat down in the same spot Madame Pomfrey had occupied. He was obviously just as concerned as the Mediwitch had been, but there was also tenderness in his eyes. He took her hands in his.

In that moment she could see and feel it again. She fought the urge to arch her back. But she could not stop herself from gripping his hand tightly. Upon feeling this he started to speak.

"Minerva, what is wrong? Madame Pomfrey was not willing to tell me anything. I hope…" His voice trailed off for a moment. "I hope it's nothing serious… That you are all right?"

"I am." She breathed and looked into his eyes. She could see he was troubled. "Albus, there is something I must tell you."

"I am listening to you."

McGonagall chewed her bottom lip.

"Albus, I am in love with you." She said finally. She looked into his eyes, studied his face for any response, but his face remained emotionless. She looked away for a moment, but as she felt him shifting beside her, she could not help but meet his eyes again. To her surprise his gaze bored into hers, his expression full of more of those emotions that she didn't recognize.

And then there it was again. Now more forcefully than ever before.

"Oh," she moaned and arched her back. Her grip on his hand grew.

"Merlin, Minerva! You can see that!" His voice was hoarse.

"What… can… I… see?" Her breath was labored. She hardly could talk or think coherently.

"Oh, my dearest Minerva." He rolled on top of her and started to place feather-light kisses on her neck and shoulders, just as he did in her visions. "I have always wanted to do this, I have envisioned this…"

And suddenly she understood.

"You did this to me. I thought I was loosing my mind." The sensation was almost too much to bear. "Why?" She was panting.

"It wasn't intentional. But it seems I can't control my Legilimency when I am near you. I love you, Minerva."

"Oh, Albus, …" She moaned softly and did not finish her thought.

End of part one

6


	2. Projections

Author's Notes:

It took a bit more time I intended to make this chapter perfect, but finally it's ready.

Probably, it's a bit angsty. But despite of that, I hope you'll enjoy.

And again, I can't explain how grateful I am for the help of my beta – morgan72uk.

**Visions**

Part Two: Projections

It was near dawn when Minerva McGonagall woke up, suddenly. Her abrupt movement was caused by the uncertain feeling that crept inside her soul. She could feel something was wrong, something was missing – something, or someone, who had provided a long forgotten sense of security and comfort. She rolled over and searched for the source of the warmth she had been aware of all night. But she must have been alone for a long time, because the sheet on the other side of the bed was cold. He had left, she thought bitterly.

She rested her face on the cool fabric as she stared into the darkness – her eyes focused on the spot where she suspected the door to be, as if expecting his return. Her hand absentmindedly played with the corner of the pillow as she snuggled deeper into the sheets. She could smell his, their, dried sweat – a poor proof of their overnight activity.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she thought about what he had given to her that night. He had given himself. She had got a glimpse of his deep soul, and this provided her with the contentment of finally feeling close to him.

She let out a frustrated sigh and turned on her back. Where was he now? She thought sadly that at least John had always stayed with her after a passionate night. He had always showered her with kindness and she had appreciated his efforts. Even though he must have been aware that, despite their marriage, she would never love him as he had loved her. The fault had not been his, but hers.

Why she had agreed to marry him was beyond her understanding – a question which had been haunting her since the first moments of their life together. Sometimes, she tended to believe that she had been too enchanted by his charms. However, deep down she knew that the pressure of her parents' expectations had persuaded her to accept the proposal of the first man, who had made her feel more special than she had been taught to believe herself to be. Until his death she had never dealt with the possibility that her coldness could have caused him pain. It had reassured her that he had always seemed to be enough in love for both of them.

Suddenly, she sat up. She felt like she had been slapped across the face. There was one very significant difference between John and Albus, she realized, John had been her husband. She had just slept with a man who was not her husband – and who she was fairly sure had no interest in being anyone's husband. She had learnt many years ago that Albus Dumbledore did not need a woman in his life. She could not count the times she had witnessed him politely, but firmly rebuffing dear Emmeline Vance's approaches.

She climbed out of her bed and walked to the window. As she pulled the curtains apart the first rays of the sun caressed her naked body.

It was still very early, and a Saturday. There was no need to rush.

She folded her arms around her, caressing her forearm with her own hands, and kissing her own shoulder to evoke the sensation she had felt the previous night. She sighed, it was not the same – could not be the same.

She summoned her tartan dressing gown and walked into her sitting room. As she sat down in her favorite armchair, she winced in pain. She was a bit sore. Despite this, she started to smile as she thought about the reason for her current discomfort. She had just survived the most vigorous lovemaking of her life. And she was more than pleased.

She conjured a kettle of boiling water and the other items required to make a fine cup of morning tea. She put the leaves into her cup, poured the water and waited a minute before taking them out – her usual morning activity, which she would give up for nothing or no one.

She leaned back into her armchair and sipped her tea quite contently.

Her thoughts wandered back to her husband. She mused on how different they were – her new lover and her husband. It was difficult to categorize that difference, but she was sure about one important detail regarding the two relationships, the way she felt was very different.

John had always been a bit overprotective – especially after the delivery of their daughter. That had been a desperate moment of her life, she shuddered to think about it even now, many years after it had happened. She was sure she would never forget the torment she felt when she first saw her beautiful daughter, who never taken a first breath in this world. Her soul had been simply torn apart into million pieces.

And sweet John had been there, never saying a word, but keeping her alive. How she had loathed him because of it. He could never understand that she was not a person who needed to be protected. They had argued a lot. He was the reason she had never been a real member of the Order of the Phoenix. Despite having been a Hufflepuff he could not understand her loyalty towards Dumbledore. She had allowed herself to be ruled by a man once in her life – a mistake she did not intend to make again.

Then he had died – killed by the Dark Lord himself, before she had the chance to overcome her emotions. And to be honest she was not sure she had managed to do so, ever.

And Dumbledore? Quite the contrary. He had left her alone to decide, too many times to count. While he had been out, saving the world as she always described it mockingly to him, she was the one to keep Hogwarts going. However much she enjoyed the challenge, sometimes it was too much to bear without anyone there to keep her going.

She enjoyed her evenings with Dumbledore – they just weren't enough to fill her craving heart. So, she had learnt to bury her needs. And when she had finally composed herself, here she was, perturbed again.

But that was the way Albus Dumbledore had always affected her.

She started laughing. She had just realized what she wanted the most from him, was the same she hated in her husband's behavior. And Madame Pomfrey assured her she was sane?

Her laugh died on her lips as she heard the soft knocking on her door.

As she walked to the door she pulled the dressing gown tighter around her. She wanted her appearance to at least resemble the descent woman and professor she was. When she opened the door, she found someone standing there, someone she had not expected to turn up.

Her only son, Michael. Michael McKinnon.

He rushed inside and embraced her tightly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, you're all right." She was slightly taken aback by his affectionate behavior, but rather impressed. Her son recently had been very closed, especially with her – an intermezzo in their relationship which neither of them seemed able to explain.

"Whatever gave you the impression that I am not all right?" She asked, as she shut the door and led her son to the sofa to sit down. "And by the way, what are you doing here? Especially so early in the morning?"

McGonagall was aware that Michael surveyed her closely, his deep sigh betrayed him. But he seemed to be satisfied by her appearance, despite her hair being ruffled; a look he was not used to at all.

"Professor Dumbledore contacted me, he asked me to come as soon as possible. He told me something important had occurred concerning you, but nothing more. I thought…"

"Oh, did he?" She asked in the most neutral tone she could produce in the current situation. She knew Michael could tell, having seen her arched eyebrow and stiffened back, that she was angry. But the way her body responded was so natural to her, that she did not attempt to conceal it, even now, when she did not want her son to see her question the authority of Albus Dumbledore. "As you can see I am perfectly fine. Tea?" She inquired with the smallest hint of a smile, not waiting for the answer before she conjured another cup – the familiar, simple movements not giving her enough of distraction. Inside she was fuming, she could not imagine what made Dumbledore think he just could order her son to rush here for no apparent reason.

"Mother, what happened?" Michael asked. "He seemed really concerned. I could not help but to think you…" He was again interrupted, but this time it was by the door opening. The man who entered was wearing the most ridiculous purple dress robes she had ever seen on him – and with a matching purple hat, of course. McGonagall looked at him sharply, but Dumbledore paid no attention to her.

"Oh, Michael, my dear boy, it's splendid you are here." His cheerful voice made her much angrier with him than she had been before. She observed with narrowed eyes as they shook hands and Dumbledore patted Michael's back. Then he did the unexpected, he stepped next to her, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "Good morning, my dear." She could see Michael's eyes widen with surprise, but after a moment he was grinning like an idiot. It was enough to make her jump up. She was not sure of his intentions, but to have her son involved was too much to bear.

"Well, good morning to you also, Professor Dumbledore." She said a bit more coolly she intended. He must have sensed her irritation, because he stepped closer again and took her hand in his.

"Minerva, my brother and Minister Bagnold will arrive soon. I hope you don't mind, I redirected the floo network into your sitting room." She hardly could find words.

"Minister Bagnold? And your brother?" She stuttered. "What are they doing coming here?"

"Dear, I think a change of attire is in order." He said, pulling out his wand and waving it a bit. When he finished she found herself dressed properly, from head to toe. The only problem was that she was wearing a creamy coloured dress robe.

"Albus, you know very well I don't wear anything like this…" she said in an irritated voice.

"Oh, yes, I seem to remember. But I do think today you could make an exception."

"And tell me, what is so special about this day, that I would be prepared to wear this?"

"Because today is our wedding day," he said matter-of-factly.

"Our… our what?" But he did not seem to hear her. He had already turned towards Michael, who obviously had no idea what to think about the events he was witnessing.

"Michael, dear boy, I wished you to come so I could ask for your blessing. You must know I only want the best for your mother." His sincerity was obvious, but McGonagall felt unsure how to react and it was apparent that Michael shared her confusion.

"Professor Dumbledore, please don't misunderstand me, but why do you want to marry my mother? She has never mentioned that you have the slightest interest in her." McGonagall did not let Dumbledore answer.

"Because he has never made it clear that he has!" She said angrily. Then she turned to Dumbledore. "Don't you think that this is a bit quick? At least you could have asked me first!" She was shouting now. "I refuse to be commanded like this! If you want to marry me you will wait…"

"I believe I have waited for long enough for you, Minerva." He said simply.

"What?" They both asked at once.

"What do you mean 'you've waited long enough', Albus?" McGonagall asked again, a bit unsure what his sentence could mean. Dumbledore sighed, murmured an apology, then took her hands again and led her to her bedroom. They settled down on the bed.

"Minerva, you of all people cannot believe that under normal circumstances I would start a courtship by seducing the woman I love. However much I enjoyed making love to you, it's just not the way I go about these things, I repeat, under normal circumstances. But tell me, how in Merlin's grace, could you be so oblivious?"

"What?" Dumbledore just sighed and continued his speech.

"Minerva, I don't know how to tell you this, without causing you pain, or making you uncomfortable." Dumbledore stood up and started to pace. His hands behind his back. "There is something between us I am not able to explain. Some kind of special bond. There's no reason you should be aware of this, especially since you are not skilled in Legilimency."

"Do my visions have something to do with this bond?" She asked quietly while looking at her hands intently.

"I think so." He said, then kneeling in front of her he reached to grasp her hands in his. "But I am not sure. Minerva, this whole thing started when…" He swallowed and gently rubbed her knuckles.

"When, Albus?" She asked reassuringly.

"After your daughter's birth."

"Leticia…" She gasped and closed her eyes. A flood of emotion shooting through her – as always when she was reminded in any form for her daughter.

"You were weak, vulnerable, but so beautiful and unreachable." He said softly. "You avoided everybody, even John. We hardly saw you, except at meals. But even from a distance I felt your pain and your struggle. I wanted so desperately to help you, to tell you that wasn't your fault. But it was not my place to do so."

"And I would have hated you even for trying it." McGonagall whispered.

"I don't remember the exact moment I realized that what I felt for you was more than respect for a colleague or friendship. I was fighting against the obvious – that I was drawn to you and berating myself for wanting another man's wife, but I could not help it. I knew it was hopeless, yet even then, somehow, I felt there must be a chance for us to be together one day."

"You cannot possibly mean you wished John's death." Asked McGonagall with wide eyes, finally looking directly at him.

"Of course, not!" He objected immediately. "It was just an instinct or," he paused for a minute. "Oh, I don't know." He sat down next to her and gathered her into his arms. McGonagall leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him, tightly. Indicating that she did not despise him for being human.

"Albus, it happened so long ago. Why now? Why not sooner?"

"I wanted to be sure you were ready to accept my feelings."

"And you think I am ready now?" She asked, but he did not respond. Instead he caressed her cheek. And slowly he bent his head to kiss her – gently, lovingly.

"You are so different today." He whispered. McGonagall covered his hand with her own – she wanted to laugh, but as her hand touched his, an intense pain shot through her body.

And there was a new vision. But it was not pleasant at all.

Dumbledore must have seen her struggle to control her breathing, because he gripped her shoulder tightly. But she could only see a white ceiling, and feel his presence behind her – gently rubbing her back with one hand and grasping her hand tightly with the other. She swallowed her scream as more intense pain shot through her.

After minutes spent with silent struggle, it was over. But she was weak, so weak she nearly fainted. She felt Dumbledore lift her and put her on the centre of the bed. He lay down beside her and caressed her cheek. She heard his worried voice, but it seemed to be far away.

"Minerva, Darling, Minerva. What happened? Should I call Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, I am all right, now." She whispered. "Just hold me for a moment, please." Dumbledore gathered her into his arms. She knew he was worried, he was trembling slightly. For a moment she wondered if he had seen the same vision, but he had not said anything. She spoke after a while. Somehow she could not understand that this man had been willing to sacrifice so many years of his life, just to be sure she loved him and was ready to be loved by him. "Albus, why didn't you find someone else? Why did you wait for me?" She heard his chuckle.

"Because I have been not able to envision anybody else…"

A soft knocking roused them. When Michael entered he seemed pleased to see them curled up together.

"Professor Dumbledore, Mother, Minister Bagnold has just arrived."

"Michael, you haven't given us your answer?" Dumbledore asked – a slight tremor in his voice, as he helped McGonagall to sit up.

"Professor," he started as he stepped closer to them. "You don't need my permission to marry my mother. But," he held up his hands to prevent Dumbledore's objection. He smiled again, realizing the greatest of wizards could be frightened by a simple answer. "I am sure you will provide a life for her that makes her as complete as she deserves." Dumbledore stood up and took a tentative step closer to Michael, he seemed a bit unsure, but Michael solved his problem – by embracing him. McGonagall was looking at them with pride shining in her eyes.

They went out to the sitting room, where Minister Bagnold and Aberforth Dumbledore were chatting jovially.

"Ah, there you are, Albus," Bagnold greeted Dumbledore. "And Professor McGonagall!" She said with a slight amusement in her voice, however she didn't seemed surprised at all.

"Millicent, I see you have made friends with my brother." He kissed her hand. "I hope he didn't attempt to seduce you…"

"Very funny, Albus." Stated Aberforth as he neared his brother. "You know very well, that's more your style than mine!"

"Your accusations hurt my feelings, dear brother of mine!" Dumbledore said as hugged his brother. When they parted, they were both grinning.

"So, let me see my future sister-in-law." Aberforth stepped to McGonagall and hugged her fiercely. "I knew he would hook you at last, Minerva." He said merrily. McGonagall just laughed, she was more than used to Aberforth Dumbledore's sometimes odd behavior. She never knew quite what to expect from him. Usually he was as reserved as his brother, but there were other times when he behaved as though he were everybody's best friend. However there was something different in his attitude to her. "You know, I really envy my brother." He whispered into her ears. When McGonagall looked at him, he seemed to be rather serious. "I have always been curious about you, dear Minerva." He said, then turned to his brother, leaving her totally dumbfounded. He could not possibly mean what he indicated by his sentence, she mused.

The ceremony was quick, she hardly noticed what was happening around her. By eight o'clock in the morning she was Mrs. Albus Dumbledore. The minister left shortly after the toast given by Aberforth – but not before a Fidelius had been performed on their marriage certificate.

Aberforth was preparing to leave, too, when the second vision hit her. She was sure her husband was aware what was happening, he stood behind her – supporting her as much as he could, trying to help her to regain her senses – never saying a word.

This one was more painful, than the last. She was gripping Albus' hand tightly, as he gently lowered her onto the floor. The last thing she saw before fainting was the horror on Michael's face and Aberforth, who was just standing with one leg lifted into the fireplace, stunned.

End of Part Two


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